


Facticity

by AnnaBananaSplit



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Solas - Fandom
Genre: F/M, science ficition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-23 22:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4895491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaBananaSplit/pseuds/AnnaBananaSplit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if a girl from our own reality woke up one day in the reality of Dragon Age Inquisition? Cara Ayers is presented with this exact problem, but what can you do? Can you change the game? How do you get home? How did she even get here to begin with? What exactly is "real" here? What happens when you fall in love with the one person sharing these existential problems?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are Cara, born in the modern world. Our modern world: 2015 in the United States of America, able enjoy all the benefits of technology and medicine at it's best. You live in a run down duplex owned by your uncle with your mother, twin sister, Lina, and often visited by your friend and cousin Gwyn. You chose to spend your weekends playing video games (with or without your two companions). Among your favorite games is Dragon Age Inquisition, a world flawed much like our own and home to the character Solas whom you are utterly smitten with.

 

   My head aches. I don’t know where I am. I feel drunk, numb, like everything inside me is empty and whatever’s left if spinning. My throat

is burning. Was I turnt last night? Probably. Probably got too carried away playing Mario Kart with Lina and Gwyn. How drunk can you get on

wine coolers though? I slap the ground next to me expecting... wait. Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the fuck? GROUND? Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no,

no, no. What did those bitches do now? My eyes snap open only to be blinded by the bright light of the fucking sun, because I’m apparently

outside. In the dirt. Right in the holy fucking dirt.

 

     I push myself up. My heart is racing. Lina knows I hate dirt. Where even is there dirt in the city? I blink rapidly, trying to wipe the

snow-blindness out of my eyes. I’m seeing spots, and that’s about it, until I realize I’m actually in... some kind of forest? Okay, this is stupid,

but I’ll give them points for effort. This totally beats the time I covered Gwyn’s car in peanut butter and bubble rap. I pat my sides, looking

for my phone, which isn’t there because my pajama's are pocketless.

 

     “Oh, fuck me.” I mumble.

 

     I struggle around on the ground for a moment, my legs feel like wet noodles, dead weight, even though they’re not doing pins-and-needles.

I try to stand but quickly fall back to the ground, and on something hard. Oh, well, of course it’s my phone. Why wouldn’t it be? At this point am

I really surprised or just done? Luckily, it’s not broken. That’s Haw Wei for you, I guess? My sister once dropped her’s down a fire escape, and it

didn’t get a scratch on it. I, however, yeah, not so lucky? Though, mine is only scratched, cutting right across the lock screen picture of Solas’s

romanced tarot. Oh, those two are gonna pay.

 

    “Okay. I get it! Funny! Ha-ha! I’m laughing! Can I go home now?” I whine, but no response. “Guys? Lina? Gwyn?” Not a sound from

anything...but squeaking?

 

     My vision is lack-luster, but the trees look more vibrant now. My eyes trace a line to the squeaking sound until they land on a tree not 20 feet

away. From behind the tree comes a small, pink, bald animal that looks like a nug from Dragon Age.

 

    “Oh you’re kidding me.”

 

     It was! It was a nug! And utterly disgusting. Did I mention I’m utterly afraid of nugs? I mean, yeah I get it as plushies, adorable, but real life

naked-mole-rat-rabbits? I’m gonna have to go with a big, fat: NOPE. It scurries over to me, as nugs do, probably curious about my perfume-y s

mell -- too close! Too close! It sniffs me, it’s surprisingly clammy little face nudging my limp legs. I let out a shriek, shriller than I’d ever even

mustered on a roller coaster, and push myself back with my arms though not nearly far enough as it approaches again. The stupid thing gets

close enough to try to nuzzle the fur of my slipper boot and, instinctively, I kick it. I feel like an asshole as the poor thing whines and

scampers off. The whole encounter leaves me winded and mildly horrified. I brush off the fresh dirt from my phone screen, and proceed to dial

my mother. No signal. I try to text, but nothing sends. Plus, no WiFi in sight. I hear more rustling, this time from the bushes. I brace myself for

more nugs, but they don’t come. This time it’s two Dalish elves, male, and hunters from the looks of their bows. The first one is young ,

maybe only a few years older than me -- so I’m guessing 25 tops -- but has silver hair and green June tattoos decorating his face. The

second one has shorter black hair and bright red simple Elgar'nan vallaslin across his face.

   

     “What’s this about?” The first one asks before he actually looks down.

     “By the creators.” The other whistles, but the first one covers his eyes.

     “For- there’s not an alienage for miles. You just travel about like that?” Green tattoos cringes.

 

      I only now become self-conscious about how much cleavage my pajamas show (that people generally should be seeing in the first place).

Wait, he just said alienage, didn’t he? My free hand immediately shoots to my ear: pointed, though still pieced for some reason. Do elves

pierce their ears? Fuck, I knew I should have read more lore.

 

     “You’re not gonna call me flat-ear?” I ask, absent-mindedly, feeling more like I'm observing than a part of what's happening and

immediately regret doing so it.

 

      Yes, why don’t you mock me while my boobs flop everywhere? Because they obviously needed the written invitation. The first guy swings

a bag off of his shoulder, pulls out a blanket, and tosses it to me.

 

     “Here, before you catch cold.”

     “Oh, uh, ma serannas.” I wrap it around me, despite not actually feeling cold, he only nodds back, his hand now fallen from

his friend’s face.

     “You just gonna sit there all day?” The second guy, who I now notice is fairly younger than the first one, inquires.

     “I don’t think I can get up.” The second guy rolls his eyes at me as the first comes over to assist me without hesitations.   

     “Seriously? You’re gonna take in another stray, Athim?” The second boy cocks his head to the side, face twisting in irritation.

     “Do you have somewhere to go?” The first one, Athim apparently, asks.

     “I don’t think so.” My voice comes out nearly as a whisper, I cough, embarrassed. My face never felt so bare before. At least if I had

vallaslin I could hide a morsel of my shame.

     “Come then,” He leans down so I can climb on his back, “You’ll die out here. Keeper Deshanna is good to outsiders. We’ll figure out something.”

     “Fen'Harel ma ghilana.” The second boy grumbles.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry this site is taking a bit getting used to! I know this is very short but it's just an introduction. Next chapter there will by a lot more Dalish. Also, Cara is in her early 20s, but I still made this teen rated, not sure if I should have upped it for language or not? Let me know, I haven't done fanfiction in nearly a decade.
> 
> ma serannas- thank you
> 
> Fen'Harel ma ghilana- The dread wolf guides you (basically you're misguided and make shit decisions).


	2. Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story will probably contain spoilers of the Trespasser DLC. This chapter, however, I do believe is safe save for the second paragraph after the "****".You should finish it though, just wow.

      Time passes as we trudge through the forest of whatever Marcher State I guess we must be in. The reality (though I’m not sure 

that’s the word I’m looking  for) of it all doesn’t feel like it’s setting in. It’s like when you get in a car accident, and you see the other car 

ramming into you and there’s smoke everywhere,  but you still feel like you’re just on a Disney ride. So... I’m somewhere in Thedas (I think, 

it’s not exactly as if I can ask “hey what planet are we on?”), and I’m  pretty sure they just said the Lavellan Clan keeper’s name... which 

means I’m on my way to see the inquisitor, too? Unless the game has already  started, but if it  did, it can’t be my cannon because the 

Lavellan clan all died. Ugh, all this shit makes my head hurt. Maybe it’s just a dream. That would make more sense, but honestly if it wasn’t, 

how amazing of a story would this make if I could bring back proof? Inter-reality-something-travel? I’d be fucking rich.  I could get a  house 

for my family, like a real  one, not squatting at my Uncle’s or at least a proper bathroom ceiling instead of the moldy, rotting one we've got. 

A steady job would be nice, but if I’m here too  long it’ll  interrupt with my  degree,  right? Damn, this could also be a memoir! I could go 

on the Ellen show. I could  ride it out for-- 

 

     “You got a name, flat ear?” The boy with red tattoos smirks, which makes me uneasy.

 

     Well, shit. Didn’t think of that one, but I was literally asking for the flat ear thing, I guess. Not that it hurts, I’m not really an elf after all. 

Is my real name alright? I don’t really know much about city elves besides Sera, and she was never really my favorite anyway. Does Cara 

stick out too much? It sounds an  awful lot like Carta. I wish I could just put them on pause and google “Dalish names” right now. My name 

should definitely be more...elf-ish, right? Elf-ish?  Elf-y? Is that what Sera calls it? But if I give my Lavellan’s name it would be bad if she was 

at their camp, right? This is no good. Does using amnesia as an  excuse work here? Can that be a cliche without TV?  I feel sick to my stomach.

 

     “Tirnel.” I blurt.

     Fuck, that’s Sindarin. I used to use it for Skyrim, but I guess I should be lucky I landed here, not there, or somewhere worse. Still they’re 

never gonna buy--

    “Weird name.”

    “You haven’t even given me your name!” I try to distract.

    “It’s a nice name.” Athim smiles, warm enough to make me feel like he’s not just being polite. 

 

    After a while longer we finally reach the Lavellan clan’s camp, which isn’t exactly how I expected it to be. There is about thirty people 

spread out among the aravels. As we approached, what I guess must have been the “front” of the camp, I could see an older woman with 

two younger Dalish stocking up a  smaller aravel. 

 

    “Ha’hren!” The boy in the red tattoos called out. 

    “Andaran atish’an, Samahl.” The old woman, who I want to assume is Deshanna, but I feel too much like a squirrel surrounded by a 

pack of foxes to go  ahead and say anything.

 

    I try to shrink behind Athim’s broad back, which isn’t as easy as I’d thought, and the little old woman perks up to get a better look 

around his shoulder.

 

   “No need to fear, da’len.” Her gentle voice soothes.

 

    Athim lets me down, but with my legs still being all wobbly he places a hand around my waist for support. I can feel my face heat at 

the stares of the few elves I’d apparently peeked the curiosity of on my way in. I shuffle to try and straighten my poor posture, before 

realizing that they were just video game  characters and feeling really silly. I’d just have to say the right thing, and everything would be 

totally fine. It’s all gotta be approval math, right? Though, I never  thought these characters had models, or names aside from the keeper. 

Was I i n  a computer or different world? You can’t insert a cell phone into a computer,  right? Maybe at best a consciousness, but that's 

pushing it to an anime level. At least the Lavellans seem kinder than  expected,  well, except for... Samahl, was it. Yeah, he’s a little prick, 

but still, maybe not all bad. Maybe. It’s  honestly still up for debate. 

 

    “Ha’hren, I must speak with you.” Athim says under his breath. 

 

    The elderly woman nods with a soft smile, dismisses the younger elves packing the aravel, and leads us to a large aravel where the four 

of us are able to sit  together (except for Samahl who stands in the outside like an asshole, unless he’s being polite and I’m the asshole, 

probably both). It’s bigger than expected  and warm, but still I pull the blanket around me tighter -- tucking my phone in the folds so they 

don’t notice. Deshanna seems like a sweet woman though, I  don’t think she’d take it from me. When she speaks it is soft, and there’s 

something soothing about her voice that reminds me of my mother’s. It makes me feel both relaxed and completely homesick. The 

excitement of making money off of this begins to fade as the fear of never getting home sets in. Not that I’d  ever been free from the claws 

of anxiety from the get-go, but it felt a lot better to write this off and focus on what’ll be like to be back home. Look, I know  it’s not morally 

right, probably, but if I can get these Dalish to take me in (which I think I’ve heard of, plus that seems to be Athim’s intention) I’ll at least have 

a chance of survival. That is, if the inquisitor doesn’t get me killed... whoever they are. Athim would make a good inquisitor. My thoughts are

cut off by  Samahl coughing behind me -- not out of illness but to get my attention. 

 

    “Pardon?” I say, trying to sound more polite and appealing to the keeper than I actually am.

    “It’s quite alright, da’len. You seem very shaken up.” The keeper pats my arm.

    “The keeper asked why you were out this far.” Athim breathes in my ear.

    “I don’t know.” I say honestly. 

    “How could you not know?” Samahl seems outraged.

    “I just woke up there.”

    “What’re you? Some kinda shem spy?”

    “Is that a thing?”  I don't think that's a thing.

    “Sent to kill us in the middle of the night!” Samahl goes on as if he can’t hear me. 

 

     I am suddenly aware of how small the aravel was: slightly cluttered and the opening being blocked by Samahl. My stomach flips in my 

guts, and I feel hot  like I could toss my cookies at any second. Though, I think keeper Deshanna doesn’t think much of Samahl’s opinion 

because she  rolls her eyes at his  melodramatics. I worry, a new fear sets in: what if I can’t survive long enough to make it home? “Your 

journey ends” was  always  an option technically, but I’m  not willing to chance there’s a load button waiting to pop up at any minute. Before 

I realize it my vision is blurred from tears. Deshanna quickly notices, reaches into her pocket, pulls out a small, embroidered handkerchief 

and hands it to me to dry  my eyes. 

 

    “Ir abelas, Da’len.” Deshanna hushed.

 

    Keeper Deshanna is the kind of person that radiates the feeling of “softness”, hell, even her vallaslin morphs ever so gently into the wrinkles 

of her face.  Her big brown eyes bore into mine and calm me. We talk in relaxed, hushed tones about how the ancient elves took hundreds of 

years to come of age -- her  way of telling me it’s okay to cry, but I refuse. I have no desire to cry around those who see it as a weakness, 

which stings. It took me so long back home to learn otherwise, and I couldn’t throw away myself for what might be, at best, a figment of my 

imagination. Still, I’m not gonna fucking die here just because I disagree with the Dalish at times.  In between breaths, Anthim and Samahl 

bounce ideas back  and forth how I came to be in the forrest, but obviously none  of them could’ve ever been right. My cellphone is all I need 

to prove I’m not a serial killer, circle mage, slave on the lamb, or whatever those two keep rambling about. I do try to tell them I couldn’t use 

magic, despite not actually having ever tried; I doubt I could simply wake up with magic one day... I did  wake up as an elf though, so I guess 

I have no real evidence to plead  that case.

 

    In any case, as it turns out, clan Lavellan is currently out a first or second, but Keeper Deshanna assured me I can speak to her or any of 

the elders to learn  about “our history”. They were supposed to have a new first transfer over several weeks ago, but they never made it. 

Knowing  Thedas,  however, I figure I’ll eventually find a charred body with a note on it saying they’re someone from another clan and  blah 

blah blah. I never actually read those, but I guess without a quest tracker things will be a bit harder. I wonder if I could have an actual 

journal somewhere  that wasn’t my phone. I also learn that  we are somewhere near a small river village outside of Starkhaven. We are to  stay 

here for several  more nights before heading west. Oh, and I kinda, sort of... lie a bit about having had a little knowledge hunting, just to 

ensure I can  defend myself. Real, not, or some bizarre in between, I don't want to chance my safety to elves who may or may not glitch 

at any time.

 

    “Well, I’ll leave her in your care then.” She finishes, causing Samahl to choke on his own tongue.

    “Keeper, with all do respect, you can’t possibly be serious?”

    “She’ll join your watch. Teach her how to hold a bow properly.”

    “I will oversee her training, Keeper.” Athim places a hand on my shoulder to lead me out.

    “Ma serannas.” I nodd to the smiling old woman. 

 

     I suddenly feel very silly for not knowing much elven. Though, they did pretty much accept the fact that I could never possibly have been 

born Dalish. I  also suspect having two hunters look out for me is just as much surveillance as it is assistance.

 

     The rest of the day goes by very quickly. Athim helps me mend my own bedroll and Samahl even tries to talk to me about bows and 

daggers -- I don’t  listen much but he tries. I don’t have much willingness to kill anything, and if I’m lucky I won’t have to.  One of the women, 

maybe a bit more than a decade older than me, even gives me some old clothes that no longer fit her since she’s had children (also, elf babies: 

just as cute as real ones). Yet, that night, when  I’m in my “new” bedroll, which is extremely icky, I can’t sleep. I realize my phone has been on 

all day, and panic sets in. While my hands were busy around the camp, I didn’t even notice. Luckily I’m still at 86%, but still no signs of life 

beside that. I curl into the roll in attempt to hide the screen. I flip through pictures  of my family: Christmas, New Years, our Disney trip before 

my brother ditched us for the military and a new girlfriend, and the fishing trip before dad died. 

 

 

****

 

 

     Several weeks pass like this, twenty nights at least, but I only turn my phone on for the real long nights where I can’t bear the loneliness 

of living in a fictional world. That kind of weight is too heavy, like a block of lead on thinning ice. No one here is real, or at least they shouldn’t 

be. Anyway, I’ve only had  to open my phone twice, so now I’m at 84% and feeling pretty good about myself. Except, I missed my chance to take 

a picture of the halla lugging us to  another village apparently closer to Tantervale. I hope I’m not here much longer, but I still haven’t thought 

of a way out. 

 

     The background of my phone is a grim reminder of what’s to come. I’ve had time to orient myself and make certain that this is, in fact, the 

age of Dragon  and the blight passed nearly a decade ago. The phrase “decade ago” makes me nervous to use. This place couldn’t have even 

existed a decade ago. The hero of  Ferelden is also supposedly "alive" somewhere, if any of these people were really alive, and the thought 

of finding her and Hawke has been keeping me up the last few nights. The thoughts of them being like me  look over my mind like a baby’s 

mobile that plays  really loud metal music with the vocal cords of screaming foxes. Still, that doesn’t worry me as much as  Solas. If Athim 

becomes inquisitor,  could he -- would he -- save him?  I’ve been pushing to get my vallaslin -- which hasn't been allowed thus far due to 

my newness and, well, let's say demeanor. It’s not like I’m actually sure that the events of inquisition could play out the way I want if I got it, 

if I could even successfully fit the  role... if I could even  be sent to the conclave myself. Hell, I don’t think anyone but Deshanna even trusts 

me yet,  and even with her it’s  probably phony (which could  be an assumption on my part, but it could also be a quest of some sort. I've 

been trying to be optimistic  about the whole thing). 

 

     Athim and Samahl lead me around on my first actual hunt with them (what those pricks have _been_ doing is trying to train me with a 

bow and then  leaving me with the elders to teach me Dalish things that I don’t actually care about). I mean, learning about the Dalish was fun 

back in the real world, when  you can pick it apart and analyze from a safe distance, but here it’s grimy and feels too real for comfort. I liked it 

better when it seemed like it was just  political commentary. Anywho, this is my chance to show them I’m one of them. I’ve gotten pretty good 

at shooting a bow if I do say so myself. Aiming it is  another thing, but I’m pretty damn good with distance. The feeling of pride when it comes 

to shooting wells up in my chest as I think about it, but the thought of what that means grows heavy and drops my emotions like a boulder into 

my stomach. Look, I ain’t no vegetarian, but it’s also not like I want to  look at my food in the eye before I eat it. That’s another thing, these 

people really need to be introduced to the concept of fast food. God damn, I even miss McDonalds. 

 

     “Come on, pick up the pace.” Samahl smacks my ankles with his bow as we walk.

     “I can’t.” I groan.

    “What do you mean you can’t? Not gon’ wimp out on us now are you, da’len?” 

 

     He’s mockingly been calling me da’eln since Athim’s youngest sister heard me crying in the middle of the night about a week ago, and it 

was getting old. I want to take his stupid bow and shove it up his stupid ass (except he is one. so then were exactly am I putting it?). He gets 

a kick out of my being a “baby”,  even though the keeper assured him there's nothing wrong with my not being an emotionless, brainless  


idiot like him (okay, maybe she didn't use those words exactly), but he insists on being a piece of shit. Still, I need them to keep  me from 

ending up one of the corpses on the roadside. I’m riddled with anxiety nonetheless.  The more time goes by the less this feels like a game: a 

really  shitty game where you feel the splinters you’re getting in your hands from  mending  fucking aravels. Whoever is screwing with me -- it 

isn’t funny anymore. I want to go home. My heartsick thoughts are cut off my Athim’s arm  swinging out to stop me from walking. Samahl 

trips into me.

 

    “Watch where you’re walking.” he groans, but is quickly shooshed by Athim.

 

    The pale haired elf crouches before us, and points to a spot downhill maybe fifty feet away at best. There, in the clearing of woods, are about 

three fully  grown grizzly bears. Of course there’d be bears, at this point, what the fuck else would they be?

 

    “We can’t handle this many, we should turn back.” Athim all but whispers.

 

    “You kidding me? We could-” 

  

    Samahl is shoosed again, but this time by me cover his stupid face up with a hand. His voice rises with every word, catching the 

attention of the  smallest bear that was closest to us. Not crying while getting a tattoo on your face doesn’t make you brave, it makes you 

stubborn or at least determined --  neither tributes that could be separated from Samahl (the dumbass that he is). He wedges the tip of his 

bow between us and slaps my hand away. 

 

    “Don’t you touch me, you dirty flat ear!” He’s obviously distressed, but I don’t have time to think about what the hell this jerk's problem is, 

because the  first bear rushes at us. 

 

    Samahl is light and quick on his feet. He gets twenty paces away without my even noticing. I’m entranced by the bear -- I’ve never seen one 

outside of a  zoo and the horror I'm feeling at his moment throws my brain in shock. The prospect of a bear running at me, in the middle of 

the woods, on another  world that is supposed to be fictional, never occurred to me so you can’t really hold me accountable for my brain over 

loading and my mind blanking. In this moment, the full surrealness of my current situation lulls and the realization of my imminent death 

begins to situate itself in my mind. How could I have possibly been mentally prepared for this? Yet I feel I should be. Luckily,  Athim is strong 

and pulls me back with him -- I don’t even feel him moving me, just that I can see the  bear running, but it’s not getting closer. It reminds me 

of the ocean. The pang in my heart snaps me back to my senses, and I’m quickly  running by Anthim’s side with Samahl several feet ahead of 

us. I glance  back: two of the three bears are after us now, the second trailing twenty feet or so behind the first . 

 

    While still running, Athim is graceful enough to pull out an arrow from his quiver and shoot. The arrow only grazes the animal’s ear. 

Athim loads a nother arrow as if it’s nothing, never even missing a beat while running. Samahl’s cockiness seems to have left him, because 

he never even looks back to  shoot (that also may have something to do with my being in his way). The knowledge that we could easily die if I 

did nothing sunk my heart to the pits of my  guts much like an elderly woman’s breast falls from her chest and flops around her stomach. I 

try to spin around, stand my ground like I’ve been taught,  pull an arrow from my quiver to shoot, but in my attempt to do all this in one 

fluid motion, like Athim, causes me to not notice the unearthed root of a tree. I t rip, crashing back on my butt as Athim and Samahl continue 

to race ahead. The bear catches up to me before I can stand. I stretch my hand over my head,  as if it can protect me, and brace for impact. 

It’s no great bear, but it’s maw is still massive compared to my head. 

 

     Swiftly, too swiftly than my conscious mind can follow the progression of, my brain is flooded with all the thoughts I’ve been working so 

hard to block out  the past few weeks. I close my eyes and suddenly remember the scent of fire. Roasting marshmallows by the bay at my 

family's trailer. I remember my mom  complaining about the smell, and another summer when my shitty neighbors from New Jersey discovered 

they could burn pot in their fire pit. I remember the  torches around my aunt’s swimming pool to keep bugs away when she had barbecues -- 

another scent my mom never stopped complaining abound, so  naturally one summer Dad had to buy several of his own torches. Thing was, 

we never had a pool to begin with, I remember the sound of her snorting  laughter when she hit him in the butt with one. I remember hot 

chocolate on snowy days as a kid, coming into the warmth of a chimney fire after my brother, Ben, took me and Lina sledding and purposefully 

ran us over with his tube because he’s an asshole. I still love him though. I love all of them. Mom and Lina... I wonder if they’ll be okay without 

me from now on... I never thought this is how my life would flash before my eyes.

 

    I open my eyes, only to realize I didn’t need to open them to know I wasn’t dying. I was actually fine, no pain, no injuries, no anything 

out of the ordinary.  Well, nothing out of the ordinary except that the bears before me were charred to a crisp, and the rippling of the 

warped veil glowing dimly around my outstretched hand. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I'm not really sure which parts of myself are real and which parts are things I've gotten from books.”  
> ― Beatrice Sparks, Go Ask Alice
> 
>  
> 
> *****
> 
> I'm probably going to be ending these chapters with quotes in the notes like this. I've been reading far too much of "The Watchmen". Also, comments and critiques are always welcome -- I'm only uploading first drafts (Senior year and I don't really have the time to edit and do multiples, sorry!). Hopefully, these chapters are just going to keep getting longer and longer. I didn't anticipate having this much Dalish action -- someone let me know what you think (in terms of too much or too little Dalish haha). I almost feel bad for summarizing so much of this sort of arc. 
> 
>  
> 
> Elvish used (from wiki) [though you've probably heard these, just a refresher in case -- I know I always forget]:
> 
> Athim- Humility  
> Samahl- laughter  
> Andaran atish’an- Formal greeting. Literally: "I dwell in this place, a place of peace."  
> He'hren- elder  
> da'len- little one  
> Ir abelas- I'm sorry  
> Ma serannas- thank you
> 
>  
> 
> also note: I'm probably going to go back and edit the first chapter at some point this week if you want to take another look at it later. I don't remember if it's mentioned, but Lina and Cara are twins.


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